Curling forward, I press my palms to his chest, fingers coiling against his shirt, feeling the heat of skin beneath the fabric. The light graze of my nails against his chest makes him shudder. His broad hand strokes down one of my thighs and hooks around the back of my knee, his fingers wrapping around my calf. I doubt I could break free even if I wanted to. I give my leg an experimental tug, but his hold is implacable. With his free hand, he cups his palm between my legs. My knees try to snap shut from the pleasure, but his grip is firm and sure, keeping me pinned for his enjoyment.
I can’t look away as L’Corte starts to lower his head between my legs. He trails kisses from my knee along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, leaving a path of fire and want in his wake. With a last kiss on the crease where my leg meets my body, he places a single long lick up the center of my folds.
Falling back on the crate, I squeal at the shock of pleasure. The metal is cold beneath me, but I feel like I am on fire. Glancing down, I watch L’Corte pause to savor my taste. Licking his lips, his golden eyes fix on mine. He looks wild, on the verge of losing his iron control.
“More,” I loudly plead. I can hear the whine in my voice, but I don’t care. I need him to get back to work.
“So demanding,” L’Corte purrs from the cradle of my thighs.
Dipping back down with a groan, like he’s being pulled against his will, L’Corte begins to lick me greedily. It has my fingers scrambling across the metal beneath me, trying to find purchase and hold on, to anchor myself against the pleasure. Without conscious thought, I’m arching up, trying to press closer to his mouth and damn forked tongue.
Lifting his head, L’Corte dips a finger inside me, crooking it in a come-hither motion, making me moan so loudly my voice echoes through the cavern of the storage room. He lowers his head back down and licks me up my center, fucking me with his fingers.
He varies his licks and the speed of his thrusting fingers. He explores every bit of me, tasting, testing, until I start begging.
“Have patience, sweetheart. I’m just learning what you like,” the evil alien explains.
“I wouldliketo come,” I demand, about ready to grab him by his horns and shove him where I need him to go.
With an evil chuckle, he gets to work. Taking everything he learned and cataloged from my responses, he displays his mastery over my body. He finds the rhythm and pressure that makes me writhe in his grip. Color and light blossom behind my eyelids. Every fiber in my body feels strung tight, ready to snap.
It’s too good, too much. My thighs tremble in his hands, my hips jerking uncontrollably. I want to savor this, but I’m not going to last. My thighs buck in his grip with each rasp of his tongue against my clit.
I call out to L’Corte that I’m about to come, my head swimming, my voice loud and ringing with desperation.
One of his huge hands massage my inner thighs, immovable even as I thrash in pleasure. He growls my name, his voice so deep it's vibrating against me, making me cry out. The weight of his hand keeps me in place while he takes me apart with his mouth.
I want it to last, to extend the pleasure, but I shatter against L’Corte’s mouth and on his finger. A wave of ecstasy surges over me, washing away all thoughts until I am boneless and sated.
Still splayed out like a sacrifice, L’Corte starts to climb up my body, his eyes hot and filled with desire.
The ringing of my tablet freezes him. Poised over me, L’Corte groans in disappointment, dropping his head on my stomach. With a small huff, he plucks my tablet from the pocket of my bag without leaving his resting place on my tummy. It must be nice to have such long arms.
“It better be important,” he grumbles quietly, pressing his forehead back against me as he reluctantly hands me the device.
I run my fingers through his hair with one hand while checking to see who is calling me.
“Oh shit! It’s Rosie. I was supposed to meet her after lunch,” I exclaim. The time on the tablet informs me that I am very late.
“Hey Rosie, I’m so sorry! I lost track of time,” I say as I answer the phone.
“That’s okay. I had plenty of work to keep me occupied,” she responds. “Do you want to reschedule our meeting?”
“No, I could head up to see you now, if that’s okay?”
L’Corte looks up at me, propping his chin on my stomach with an unmistakable pout.Sorry, I mouth at him, but ruin the apology by grinning unrepentantly. He rolls his eyes at me, not bothered by my fake remorse. He knows that I’ll make it up to him.
“That would be great. I’ll be in my office,” Rosie says.
I agree to meet her there in a few minutes and then hang up the call.
Sitting up, I tug L’Corte up to meet my lips in a chaste kiss. He surges in to kiss me again, then another, but thankfully pulls back just before we can get carried away.
“I should probably return to the command council and find out what Vorto had to say,” L’Corte says with a reluctant sigh. “But first, let me escort you to Rosie’s office.”
Standing up, he picks me up off the box and sets me on my feet, steadying me with his hands because my legs are still made of jelly. Looking down, I’m kind of amazed my shoes stayed on through all my gyrations.
L’Corte helps me rebutton my shirt and tuck it back into my skirt. Biting my lip, I straighten the wrinkles I put in L’Corte’s uniform. I resist the urge to run my hand over the prominent bulge pushing out the front of his pants. If I did, I imagine we would both miss our meetings. Simultaneously, we smooth out our wild sex hair, running soft fingers through the strands. The small, lingering touches feel as intimate as sex.
